After Kirkwall
by dragonNMR
Summary: What's in store for the Champion of Kirkwall? A wanted apostate and rallying call to the mages, Grace Hawke has becomes the leader of a rebellion throughout Thedas, and unexpectedly is accompanied by the one man who never thought he would be at her side attempting to achieve the vision he had always hated. Magic, free. But what happens when death and loss threatens to shadow them?
1. Chapter 1: The Drunk's Tavern

Chapter 1: The Drunk's Ass

"And I though Kirkwall was ugly."

A stout dwarf walked past the dock, his leather greaves dirty and his chest hair greasy from the long trip, his blond hair tied back in a short ponytail. He grimaced at his surrounding, ignoring every sharp and curious stare he noticed by all the humans he passed.

_Tall giants, swear they've never seen a beardless dwarf. _He thought amusedly to himself. _How shall I explain it this time? A fight with a golem? A near hair-raising experience with darkspawn? Naw…_

"Where in Andraste's dimpled ass is the tavern around here?" He swore to himself, looking about.

He paused surprised as by the paved road by a rickety yellow house he noticed as small growth among the dull and dead surroundings. A small white daisy, pathetic and wilting in its grim environment.

"Hu, a white daisy." He walked over to it and stared at it thoughtfully. "I wonder how Daisy's doing." He muttered to himself. "Bet she's lost and clueless as ever even with that ball of string." He grunted.

He reached down deliberately, thinking whether he should take the flower with him or not.

"Please don't sir, I've been taking care of that."

He stood up in surprised, his eyes trailing to the corner of the house. He surveyed the little elf girl with surprise, a holed cowl wrapped over her head, her grimy clothes were like tattered rags around her small frame.

He scrutinized her and smiled.

"I won't touch your flower little girl."

A hopeless and innocent smiled spread across her face. She skipped over and crouched by the flower.

_I'll never understand these crazy city elves and their plants._

"Sir, why did you want to pick the daisy?" The little girl asked, her wide almond eyes upturned to him, he noticed that they were green and greatly familiar to him.

"Ah, it reminded me of this hopeless elf I knew once, sweet little thing but she was absolutely clueless like a pigeon. As a matter of fact, she reminded me of one." He chuckled as he thought of old times, well not too long ago.

He stopped laughing as the little elf girl kept staring at him obviously confused.

He sighed. _Nobody knows how to laugh nowadays too. Freakin' mage rebellion. Damn you Hawke._

"Tell me little girl, where's the tavern around here?"

"Oh!" She hopped up looking bright. "I can show you the way! There's this bard, she tells great stories of the Champion of Kirkwall. She says she was there when it all happened."

"Oh does she now? You now, I actually knew the Champion of Kirkwall personally. She was always where there was trouble and me in the middle." He chuckled remembering the good old days.

"Really?" The little girl's eyes brimmed excitedly. "Then you were there during the battle, where the champion used Blood Magic to turn the Knight-Commander into stone?"

"Haha! Oh no, she didn't turn the Knight-Commander into stone, no, the Champion never touched Blood Magic, that's for sure. No, the stupid idol was that crazy woman's undoing, besides, I'm pretty sure she turned into raw lyrium."

"Raw lyrium?" She echoed.

"Don't worry your little pretty head over it." He comforted.

"Okay, this way!" The little girl tugged at his vest.

He followed the little enthusiastic girl as they walked down the paved road, as he had been speaking to her, the road had become busied with activity.

_Hmm, maybe this place isn't a dead as I thought._ He thought to himself.

"Sir, is it true that an elf is the Champion's companion?" She asked inquisitively.

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Oh it's true alright. Who would think the anomaly was possible? A mage and a mage hater together, right? Fate just loves irony. Sounds like another Andraste and...what's that dudes name that was her husband…?"

"The Maker?" She looked surprised that he didn't now.

"No, not that one, the one who killed her."

"Maferath?" She asked puzzled.

"Yeah, that one." He laughed. "Those two are just like another Andraste and Maferath. Let's just hope it doesn't go that bad for Hawke or I'll hunt that 'little wolf' down and shoot an arrow through each one of his testicles. Then his heart if he even has one."

"What are testicles?" She asked bemused. "And why would you hunt a wolf?"

"Oops." He chuckled. "If you want to know what those are, ask your daddy or mommy, but don't tell them little old Varric told you about them, just say you heard it on the street, okay?"

She nodded vigorous, her small pale lips pressed together in a little pucker.

"As for the wolf, I meant the elf."

"Why would you call him a wolf? A shem once told me that we look more like cats."

Varric chuckled. "That you do, but that's literally what the elf's name means. But, he acts like a rabid wolf when he's pissed off. Bet his old master had to put a leash on him."

"So it's true that he was a slave?" She asked awed, ignoring his jib.

"Yup, made him more bitter than a Crow who missed his victim and ended up with vegetables instead."

"What does that mean?"

"Ah forget it, it was a bad joke anyways."

"I like your bow." She changed the subject deliberately, gazing at the weapon on his back.

"Ah but Bianca isn't a bow, no, she's more like a crossbow."

"Why did you name it Bianca?" She asked perplexed.

Varric laughed amused. "Ah, so many have asked that very question. It's a secret." He winked slyly.

"Oh." Her eyes lit with even greater curiosity, she stopped. "Well here we are."

Varric craned his neck up, damning the humans privately for being so tall. "What idiot calls a tavern the 'Drunk's Ass?'" He chortled, at least it made some sense.

The little girl shrugged, oblivious as he was apparently. "Well have a good day sir." She smiled and turned away.

"Wait there little Miss."

She stopped and turned back looking mystified.

Grumbling, he fumbled through his pockets till he found a Silver and tossed it to her. "Take care not to lose that, and thanks for the escort."

She smiled widely. "Thank you sir!" She skipped away to her own little tune.

"Hmph. Only a little girl would call me sir, then again, some of my contacts did too." He muttered to himself as he pushed the door in and walked into the lowlife tavern.

He sucked in a deep breath, tasting the familiar low like tavern like nothing else, aw how he missed the Hanged Man. The thought of it twanged his heart, no other tavern was like it. The beer which tasted like it had some sweat in it, the pungent air, the rickety wooden floor, the losers of Lowtown and the sound of whores selling themselves short.

It had been a long time since he had a decent pint, he looked over to the bar, his jaw nearly slacking.

"Rivaini!" He crowed delighted and strutted over.

She turned to look at him, surprise and pleasure crossing her face. "Varric, you short old fool. What are you doing in Cumbenland? If you're looking for some good old beer and a couple of dwarf server girls, you're out of luck."

She raised a pint to him.

"Ah, good old Isabela." He chuckled. He trained an eye over her. Yup, same old Isabela, her bosom flaring out by the low standard of her barely covering tresses, and probably no panties on her ass where her skirt barely cover it.

And he was short enough to tell, he looked away, particularly disturbed.

"Yup, same old Isabela." He snorted.

"What? Were you expecting me in any place fancier? Or with some lame ass, naked, in bed like you caught me with last time?" She giggled.

"Oh no!" He gestured defensively, his hand waving before him. "I had nightmares for weeks after that one, you should really lock the door."

She laughed. "The Hanged Man, with doors that lock?"

He smiled. "True, but then again, I was spoiled there, a king in his palace." He sighed wistfully.

"So what brings you to dreary Cumberland?" She repeated. "I miss Kirkwall and its black walls and raging seas by the docks. This place has been a mess since the College of Magi fell." She added.

"Don't you get enough raging seas after that ship you stole by the docks?" He accused humorously.

"Hey, Castillon is dead, it's not like he was going to use it." She defended comically.

"True." He agreed. "I'm here trying to get away from that Seeker lady and trying to get as far away from that crazy mage rebellion as possible."

"Well you aren't going to get very far. Did you hear? Hawke and Fenris are leading a revolution." She tilted her pint to her lips, a coy smile on her lips.

Varric snorted unsurprised. "Sounds more like another Andraste and Maferath every minute."

"What?" Isabela cocked an eyebrow obviously bemused. "Maferath?"

"Oh forget it, just an observation."

"Oh…" Her relaxed face suddenly became dark and serious. "You mean Hawke and Fenris. If that bastard does anything to betray Hawke, I'll cut off his balls with a rusted old dagger shove them down his throat, then I'll rip out his heart with my nails."

Varric chuckled. "I said something along the same lines. But seriously, Hawke and Fenris are forming a revolution, not Anders?"

She sighed tiredly as she set her pint down with a dull thud. "Yeah, apparently Hawke is trying to rally the mages into an order and prevent 'unnecessary casualties', and Fenris is her second in command. Apparently he's taken it upon himself to teach the mages some self-discipline."

"You mean Blood Mages and Abominations." Varric pointed out.

Isabela just smiled, obviously knowing the facts.

"Who would have thought, I bet Fenris is hating every minute of it. If it weren't for Hawke, he'd be hunting down every mage in Thedes. He must really love her or either he's planning something else." Varric said absently as he tossed five Coppers on the bar table. "A pint over here."

A tall bearded man cleaning a cup acknowledged him with a nod.

"Imagine, it's only been a few months and practically all the Circles have fallen and even some of the Templars have rebelled." He shook his head. "Only our Hawke could have pulled something off like that. But where is Anders in all of this? After Hawke let him live, I doubt he would just disappear."

Isabela shrugged uncaringly. "I wouldn't know, I've been out at sea, only hearing rumors at all the ports I land in and listening to the gossip in the taverns. I met Aveline in Denerim just two weeks ago, she's been reinstated there as the head General of the Ferelden Army. Who would have guessed?" Her lips pinched slightly, Varric knew very well that those two never saw eye-to-eye, before she continued on. "Apparently, King Alistair and his Queen, the Hero of Ferelden, up and disappeared around the same time Hawke did. Anora has taken power much to the hate of the nobles and people," Isabela winked at him mischievously, "and things have gotten worse with Orlais."

"Hmph, Fereldan has always been a land of troubles. Tell me something I don't know."

He took the pint graciously from the bar as the man set it down and swooped the five Coppers into his apron. Varric took a good draught before continuing, scowling at the beer.

_Tastes like donkey piss._

Isabela smiled, obviously sharing his distaste for the drinks. "Merrill has the makings of a fine sailor, if only she weren't so daft every time we landed on port. I need to make her more like me."

"Adraste forbid." Varric groaned. "Daisy is with you?"

"Sure she is, not that I can get her to come enjoy the taverns with me, she needs to loosen up, have some wild sex with some drunk men and flaunt her charm around, she could get whatever she wanted then." She smiled and quaffed the rest of her pint.

"Oh no, I think Daisy is just fine as she is. I don't think Thedes can take another Isabela."

Isabela smiled, her cheeks flushed. "True, I am one of a kind. A pirate goddess about the lonely sea and boring whores." She laughed.

"You keep telling yourself that." Varric encouraged. "Tell me, has Daisy done better since leaving Kirkwall? Lost as ever even on a small ship?"

"Oh I wouldn't say she's lost all the time, just absent minded. She ends up in my cabin every time, I tried getting her into bed with me but that sweetie is just too shy and clueless. She's absolutely adorable."

"Now, now, don't go raping Daisy now, she doesn't need that kind of mental scarring." Varric nearly shiver, the very idea was horrifying to him in a very creepy way.

"Oh I won't"." Isabela chided. "I should have bedded Hawke while I could though, oh but she was so serious, and Fenris with those brooding eyes…" She trailed off in an apparent fantasy as she stared at the ceiling.

"So where are you headed now?" Varric asked, changing the subject.

"Hmmm? Oh, I think I'm headed back to Kirkwall for a brief visit, see if there are any letters in the Hanged Man, and a decent drink as well." Isabela said thoughtfully, her finger stroking the rim of her pint.

"That sounds like a good plan, but it's teaming with Templars and fights around there, we're wanted, you might get caught." Varric warned.

"Caught? Me?" She smiled dangerously. "You forget who I am Varric."

"True," Varric admitted, "just make sure Daisy stays on the ship."

Isabela nodded in agreement and stared into the depths of her pint, her eyes lit up and she turned to him with a wild smile. "Why don't you come with me?" She asked suddenly excited.

"I don't know Isabela, dwarfs are not made for the sea." He shuttered at the idea.

"Oh come on, don't be such a stiff. Who knows, we might come across a sea monster."

"Ah, the stories I could tell." Varric smiled at the idea. "But really, now you really convinced me to say no."

"Oh come on Varric, there are no sea monsters…or are there?" She snorted. "Besides, Merrill would love it if you were around."

"Hmm, let me think on it." Varric answered as he took another draught.

"I don't think you need to worry." Isabela assured. "You got a pair of sturdy legs, what are you afraid of?"

He almost laughed. "Drowning, or worse sinking."

A playful hurt expression crossed Isabela's face. "You underestimate my skills Varric." She smiled.

Varric groaned, setting down his pint. "Fine, when do we leave?" He said with a trace of defeat and the sense he was going to regret this adventure.

Isabela's smile widened. "At dawn."


	2. Chapter 2: On the Move

Chapter 2: On the Move

Weak morning light seeped slowly and quietly through the space between the dark draping curtains of the small wooden room. A small scurrying clawed the silence as a tiny mouse searched for food in the quiet room of the quiet tavern inn.

By the window dressed in dark scratched armor stood a tall woman with hair almost as short as a man's. Her crystal blue eyes stared out into the small space through the curtains, looking at nothing yet looking out at the thin sliver of street her eyes could focus on.

A quiet creaking echoed wretchedly as the hinges of a door to her back slowly swung in and light steps followed its whining.

"You're awake."

She blinked and turned back. She stared at the fair elf as he closed the door behind him, his skin almost as dark as those from Antiva, the lyrium veins accented his skin, glowing in the dim light of the twilight lit room. His hair was white as the wings of a dove and she knew it was just as soft. But it was his emerald green eyes that captured the breath from her lungs and his voice that had become unbearably gentle only to her and no one else.

She never thought that this elf would ever speak to her so softly for he hated all mages with a vengeance like no other, never had his voice been so sweet to anyone when he spoke and never did she imagine that it was possible that he could come to love her as she had fallen for him on plain sight.

Yet here it had happened and she was a mage no less.

"Fenris." She sighed. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since before dawn. I thought it was best if I didn't wake you." He explained as his bare soles made no sound as he came to her side. "Did you sleep well?" He asked rather awkwardly.

She smiled. He was trying so hard to be considerate and concerned. "I'm fine, as fine as I ever will be sleeping in a place like this."

"Yes." He agreed a little harshly as he stared at the window and casted as suspicious glance back. "It's not easy trying to sleep when you're being hunted." A bitter and old resentment crept into his voice, and she knew he was thinking of his old days as a runaway slave, hunted by Danarius' soldiers.

His clawed hand rose up and grabbed her shoulder tightly as he stared at the door then returned his gaze back to her. "We should move on."

"You say that a lot." She sighed tiredly.

He gave her a crooked smile. "And I am always right about it to."

She smiled halfheartedly. "I suppose."

"Come, no one is downstairs right now we can leave without being spotted, hopefully." He said as he bent over by the bed and picked up the pack and her stave, he held it out to her, his eyes expectant. "Come Grace, the others are waiting for us, we must move on."

Grace nodded reluctantly, tired of the constant running as she took her staff from his hand. But he did not let go of it, instead he pulled on it and made her stubble forward to his chest, his other hand clasped around her waist and before she understood what was happening, their lips met and he refused to let her get away.

She blinked once in surprise before she permitted her eyes to close and she allowed herself the pleasure of savoring his lips against hers and the touch of his skin and the embrace he held her in. It was a brief kiss, gentle and very sweet. She shuttered as their lips parted from each other's, his breath tickled her face and made her cheeks flush with warmth.

"Don't look so down." He whispered softly. "Where is the Champion of Kirkwall I know so well?"

She laughed humorlessly. "I think I left her wherever we last did it together."

Fenris gave her a crude smile. "Are you telling me we need to do it again to get your spirits back up?" He swooped her down where only one of her boots touched the ground and an involuntary yelp escape her lips.

She laughed with heart this time and pecked him on the lips. "Maybe."

He smiled mischievously, then his face became serious. "You know we don't have time for that."

Grace groaned feeling herself go limp. "I know, but it's been so long!" She exasperated.

Fenris chuckled, a laugh that made her shiver, it was a rare sound coming from him. "Soon." He promised and pulled her back up to her feet. His hands let her go to her regret as he went to the door and pulled it open.

"Come on." He ordered quietly, all his charm gone. She rolled her eyes and smiled reluctantly as she hefted her staff to her back and pulled her cowl over her head, she had always hated hoods and now she resented them even more since she had to constantly hide her face from others or else they might get caught. To Fenris' disgust, he had also adopted the habit and they had even purchased dye to cover the markings on his throat and chin and even on his palms and fingers. His feet didn't need it since they stayed dirty most of the time with dirt.

They had run out of dye recently and they needed to get more. They were off and down the creaking stairs as quietly as they could while not walking slow. She looked around as they made it to the main room of the tavern it was empty except for the young tavern boy who was asleep on the bar. His snores quiet yet the loudest thing in the room. Quickly they escaped out the door and to the streets of Starkhaven, dappled in the lights of dawn.

Grace stared about, wary. Starkhaven had the strongest ties to the Chantry unlike any other city or state. The streets crawled with the Templars who had remained dutiful to the original ideals of the Circle and the Chantry. Here she was a personal enemy to the very ruler of Strakhaven, Sebastian Vael, who had recently taken his place in the city's government. His forces were the ones that fought and aided in Kirkwall, as he had promised during their bitter parting.

They quickly walked up the street to the market area, it was early and the owners of their shops were barely putting out their goods for inspection. Grace touched Fenris' shoulder gently and indicated for him to wait, he made an unhappy expression but nodded and handed her the pack and began watching the street around them.

She quickly made her way to the stand of a Tevinter merchant that she had befriended when they had arrived two weeks ago.

"Good morning Haldrik." She greeted quietly.

He turned to her, a pleased smile crossed his face, his black mustache twitched as a result.

"Aw, Grace. I was wondering if you would be coming soon." He said in his thick voice.

She smiled pleasantly yet her impatience boiled under her skin, so she wasted no time and inquired. "Do you have more dyes?"

"Ah, yes I do actually. But I'm afraid I was only able to acquire three from the shipment of Antivan goods." He said apologetically.

"I'll take all three." She said without hesitation and pulled out the Silvers she needed to pay. She knew the price well now.

They swapped the bottles of dyes and coins without a word and she placed them into her pack swiftly.

"Ah, Grace, I have good news. I obtained the book you were inquiring about." He smiled widely and clasped his hands together.

Grace blinked surprised. "You did?" She asked astonished. "How did you ever manage? It is a very rare book."

He nodded gravely. "Indeed, it was no easy task obtaining this book and it is even an original, much more content on the subject then the one you mentioned. I haggled a great deal to get it." His voice became wary. "I'm not sure you can afford it." He said without offence. "But if I sell it to you for the price I paid for it, I would gain no profit."

Gace's face became stiff. "No matter, name your price Haldrik and I'll pay. I very much need that book."

He grimaced and his lips fumbled. "Twenty Sovereigns."

Without delay, Grace plucked twenty of the gold coins from her pouch and placed them on the table and smiled.

Haldrik's jaw slacked. "Why miss, you are indeed full of surprises." He said pleased and swooped up the coins gingerly into his pouch. He went to the back of his stores and pulled out a thick book covered in cloth, he laid it before her and passed it to her without effort.

"It is yours, just like I promised."

She touched the book feeling her chest tighten as she pulled the cloth carefully away from the cover. She looked at the blue script the titled the book and smiled pleased. 'Lyrium Warriors: A Full Study in their Making and Workings'. And by the original mage who had first conducted the experiments no less.

She wrapped up the book, feeling a bit disgusted at the thought of how Fenris had come by his own marking and placed the book into her pack, it weighed it down significantly, but it was a worth every coin she had just given Haldrik. She hoped to glean significant information from the book that could help Fenris.

"Miss, may I ask why you need this book? You…you're not planning on actually doing this to…" He trailed off and fell silent, he gazed at her with some fear.

"Oh no Haldrik, I need it to help a friend." She promised and glanced back at Fenris whose back was turned to her, his long sword gleamed in the light on his back.

"Ah, that is a relief to hear." The man sighed. "Are you leaving Starkhaven soon?"

"Yes." Grace sighed. "Today, as a matter-of-fact. Haldrik." She placed her piercing stare on his face and shadowed her words dangerously. "Tell no one my name, nor who or what I am, this purchase and all my previous purchases must remain unheard by anyone." She warned.

Haldrik shivered. "Of course, nothing will pass these lips, not even if they torture me, I swear."

Grace relaxed considerably and smiled. "Thank you, Haldrik. Let's hope our paths cross in the near future, and just as pleasantly if not more pleasant. May luck smile upon you."

"And you as well." He bowed and she turned away back to Fenris, within a couple of yards she was by his side again.

"Did you get the dyes?" He questioned as they turned away and began to journey up the street.

"Yes."

"And what was that other large thing you bought? Was it a book?"

"Nothing you need to worry about now Fenris." She promised.

He scowled, obviously unpleased by her secrecy but made no comment of it as they continued to walk. They were soon surrounded by the tall beautiful buildings of the higher-class nobles of the city. They scurried warily past the largest estate that now was inhabited by the only surviving Vael. The guards at the door failed to notice them as they slipped past.

It was a half-hour later when they reached the roads they needed to travel by. She sighed relieved as they made it past the last few small houses and the filigree gates that adorned the high wall that surrounded the city, they walked over the bridge of the Minanter River that swept by Starhaven.

She smiled at Fenris, feeling smug about another successful venture out of Starkhaven, he turned to her about to speak when a voice rang out behind them.

"Halt!"

Grace stiffened and turned to look behind her, she cursed their bad luck as five Templars came jogging after them up the bridge. Beside her, Fenris snarled and took a step protectively in front of her.

The Templars stopped a few feet away from them, there silver armor gleaming in the rising sun that had just flourished into existence not long ago.

The lead Templar, with blue eyes and blond short hair spoke as leader. "What is your business leaving Starkhaven? And where are you headed?"

Grace gently pushed Fenris' arm in warning as she came to stand by him. "We are on our way to Antiva to visit family and friends. We only stayed in Starkhaven for a brief rest."

The lead Templar scowled as at her explanation. The templar to his right with black hair and green eyes snarled and stepped forward. "Reveal your faces."

Grace felt Fenris stiffen beside her as they stood there and said nothing.

_This is not going to end well. _She thought frustrated.

The five Templars made a circle around them, one shot his hand to Fenris' hood. Before his hand could even reach, Fenris' hand shot up and clutched the man's wrist with a deadly grip.

"Don't touch me." He snarled.

Before they could react, Grace felt a hand tug away her cowl and another Templar pulled the hood away from Fenris' head.

They Templars gasped. "It's the Champion and the elf!" One of them shouted.

The lead Templar grinned dangerously. "By the order of the Chantry and Lord Vael's law as the ruler of Starkhaven, you are to come with us and face justice by the Prince and Chantry for your crimes in Kirkwall and all of Thedes."

With a snarl Grace spat. "If you wish to live, I suggest you take a step back and scurry back to your city unless you wish to meet your ancestors in your graves."

The Templars growled and pulled out their blades. "You are coming with us Apostate. You will pay for your crimes!"

Without another word she set the flow of energy rushing through her body and ignited a fireball into existence and tossed it towards the lead Templar, smiting his breast plate and shooting him away. The crackling heat of the fire made the air shimmer and offered a brief distraction and panic among the Templars. With graceful and swift steps, Fenris decapitated two of the other men in a felt swoop as he drew his sword.

Their blood sprayed them, the last two Templars charged forward bellowing, with a single swing, Fenris' blade rang down on one of their swords and with a swift twist and jerk, Grace pulled out her staff Bassrath-Kata and stabbed the Templar charging towards her, the blade piercing the man's throat without effort. She wished more than ever that she hadn't left her father's stave behind in Kirkwall.

He cried out in pain and fell back, his body tumbling over the bridge and into the river, a pealing ring and shredding sound echoed through the air along with a gasp and crunching bones. The splash that followed sounded loud as the echoes of battle resided into the slow wind.

She turned her gaze to Fenris, who held the last Templar by the back of his mail, blood pouring out of the man's chest and dripping off his blade, without a word Fenris hoisted the body up and tossed it into the river. Silently he passed her and threw the other bodies into the river as well.

As he walked back towards her, his expression cold and pulled his hood up and placed his sword back on his back. "Let's move on, before someone notices them missing."

As he passed she noticed him pocket a few coins into his own pouch.

She nodded in agreement and sheathed her own weapon back into place on her back and pulled her hood back up. She followed him quickly, eager to escape the accusing presence of Starkhaven and the death of the Templars.

She sighed feeling sorrowful for the unnecessary deaths of the Templars, she hated unneeded killing, she had done it too often and she wondered if Fenris felt the same.

They walked quietly away from the dwindling Starkhaven in the distance as they made their way to the caverns of the mountain-forest lands past Starkhaven and the river. There hid their group of mage and Templar rebels.

It took them a little over an hour to reach the caves by foot. As they arrived, the guards announced their arrival with robust yelling. Soon they were surrounded by their supporters, asking them if they were fine and what bloodshed they had encountered.

"It's good were moving today then, more Templars will be after us soon." Gretta said nervously, a young mage that had escaped the destruction in Kirkwall.

"Indeed." Rolin agreed, a veteran Templar who had joined them from the city of Cumberland before the destruction of the College of Magi. "We should move out of here swiftly."

Fenris remained silent by her, his face expressionless. Grace knew well that if it weren't for her, Fenris would not be here fighting for the freedom of mages.

"Grace, someone arrived last night. A Warden who says he's your brother." Rolin informed.

"Carver?" She gasped surprised. "Where is he?"

"This way My Lady." Rolin indicated and lead her into the cave where a few mages were tending to the wounds of new mages who had arrived, including a small family that reminded her of their escape from Lothering and she remembered Bethany and her mother with sadness.

She followed Rolin as he led her deeper into the cave, she smiled as she spotted Carver talking to a Templar, his back to her.

"Carver!"

He turned around and smiled, they rushed to each other and grasped each other in a tight huge.

"Grace, ha, look at you and all of this. Father and Bethany would be proud." His smile faltered as he mentioned his dead twin sister.

"Mother, Father, and Bethany would be proud of both of us." She corrected.

Carver looked past her as Fenris came up behind her.

"Ah, Fenris, right?" He asked with a critical stare. "You're a little thin, are you sure you can defend my sister?" His hand extended out.

Fenris clasped his hand and squeezed tightly, a tight smile on his lips. "My form can be deceiving." He assured. "But I am a lot stronger than you can imagine."

Carver gave him an uncomfortable grin as he tugged his hand away and rubbed it with his other gloved hand. "I hope so, because if she dies by your fault, I'll hunt you down."

Fenris grinned darkly at his challenge, his eyes angry. "I won't let anything or anyone take Grace away from me. Besides, I'm used to being hunted, you won't have a chance."

Carver smiled. "Hmm. Alright, I might like him." He looked at Grace who was glaring at him dangerously. "Hey, I'm only making sure he's man enough to stick by you." He defended.

"I can take care of myself." Grace snarled, a wiry smile tugged her lips. "Besides Fenris and I can hold our own in battle, and **I **choose who my man, not anyone else."

Carver chuckled. "I bet mother would disagree with you. She would want you married not loafing with some elf."

Grace scowled at his words.

Fenris growled. "If its marriage you want, I can happily oblige."

Graced started, shocked by his words.

"Oh is that so?" Carver challenged. "Still, a human married to an elf is not favorably seen by everyone, especially if the elf is a former slave. A consort maybe, but not a husband."

Fenris snarled angrily. "I am not a slave! Who are you to say what I can and cannot be to her?"

"Uh, her brother?" Carver answered sarcastically.

"Enough!" Grace spat enraged. "Who are either of you to decide how or who I should be with? What are you here for Carver, because if you came to ruffle my temper, you've succeeded."

Fenris fell silent, fuming as did Carver, they stared each other down angrily like a pair of rabid dogs and ignored her. And she had thought these two would have gotten well together…

She felt something bump her leg and she look down surprised at Fang, his brown eyes stared up at her happily, his tongue lolling and his tiny tail wagging.

"Aw, Fang old boy, will you do me a favor and bite Carver in the ass?" She whispered.

Fang barked happily and obliged, he leapt over to Carver, his teeth sinking into his mail.

"Ouch!" He yelped resentfully and leapt away. "What did you do that for Fang?"

Fang whined and drooped his head.

"Good boy." Grace commended and he perked up barking. Carver turned his glare to her. "Now, tell me why you came."

Carver sighed and relaxed his stance. "I came to make sure your alright and too help you, you don't have many of your friends around anymore so I thought I would tag along and make sure you don't end up dead too."

Grace didn't know whether to smile, frown, or scowl at her brother. "And what about your duty to the Grey Wardens?"

He shrugged. "I left."

"Are you allowed to do that?" She asked incredulously.

"Anders did it, and so have others. I left a note."

Grace breathed exasperatedly. "If they come hunting your ass-"

Carver shook his head. "I don't need you to defend me. I can take care of myself. Besides, they won't hunt me, they have better things then to chase me around."

"Fine." She stated a little coldly. "It's on your head then."


	3. Chapter 3: Raids in the Cave's Entrance

Chapter 3: Raids in the Cave's Entrance

Grace stared irritated into the distance as she tried to concentrate on planning the group's move to Antiva, where they hoped to gather sympathizers and more mages from Tevinter. Much to Fenris' hate who wanted to go nowhere near Tevinter and its Magisters. He argued on end with her that their influence will be the undoing of their efforts, that the mages under their command with be lured to the cruel Magisters' way of life, dooming all of Thedes to yet another Tevinter Imperium. In some way she agreed yet she knew if she could gain Tevinter's support, they just might win this war.

She was still heavily enraged by Carver's behavior. She tried to push her brother out of her mind and concentrate. Rolin was here advising her as well as Darius, an elder elf mage from one of the broken Circles. Fenris hung back from the table they had their map set out on.

"I still agree with your companion, Tevinter is too dangerous to look for aid there." Rolin was arguing. "We should go to Nevarra City and aid in the conflict there. Many mages are dying unnecessarily as well as Templars."

"But if we can gain the support of Tevinter then we will have hordes of mages, all the nations will have no choice but surrender their stubbornness and give us the treatment we rightfully deserve." Darius insisted.

"I believe we should take Rolin's advice on this matter, we should head to Nevarra City and then to Ferelden. I hear that King Alistair and his Queen the Hero of Ferelden support the Mage Rebellion." Another Templar by the name Sara spoke with certainty.

"Tevinter sounds more promising." Another mage, Jade, added in her accented voice. "The mages there are powerful both in influence and in magic."

"Tevinter has its own problems with the Quanari, and Ferelden is feuding with Orlais. I believe we should go to Nevarra and then decide from there." A mage by the name of Jolf said quietly.

"That I agree with." Rolin replied. "We may gain as many supporters as we may gain in Antiva."

Grace stared at the map attentively, considering all the arguments and turned her gaze to Fenris.

"What do you think Fenris?"

His eyes half-closed, she could see his impatience in the set of his lips. "You know what I think. Tevinter isn't the answer. Ferelden is a better prospect than a bunch of corrupt mages and slavers. Gaining their support would make our cause and intentions look only darker."

A few nods of argument came with his words, and reluctant murmurs of agreement from some of the mages.

"Very well, we'll go to Nevarra." Grace resided. "At our arrival I'll leave for Tevinter on my own and reunite with all of you in Nevarra afterwards."

"Absolutely not!"

She flinched in surprise as Fenris' armored claws sunk into the wood with a heavy thud, everyone recoiled from the table as he was bent over Grace, glaring and breathing hard.

"Absolutely not!" He repeated enraged, his hand clawing out strings of wood while the table groaned in protest. "I will not let you go to Tevinter by yourself. Next thing I know you will be killed by a Magister who finds you a threat or captured and sold as a slave! I will not allow it."

Grace glared at him. "I need to go Fenris, I need to see for myself if it's worth pursuing the assistance of the Imperium."

"No." He snarled. "I refuse to allow you to risk your life in such an endeavor."

"I will go Fenris, whether you like it or not." She said with finality.

He continued to glare at her and she returned his stare just as intensely. Suddenly his anger seemed to crumple and anguish covered his face. "Please Grace, can't you trust me on this? I've told you, I can't not bear the thought of living without you. Please. Please don't go."

Suddenly all her anger was gone and she felt herself slump and her heart squeeze. "Fenris…I do trust you, I do. But-"

"Sister, I agree with Fenris. It's too dangerous, besides, we need you here to help fight in Nevarra, to lead us." Carver interrupted.

Grace sighed feeling rotten for causing so much strife, but she knew she had no choice. "I'm sorry. But I have to go."

Fenris spat angrily, his hand shot up, tossing the table in the air and making it tumble and everyone to jump back, he walked away from them, his fists clenched as he exited the cave cursing in Tevinter.

Grace sighed and picked up the fallen map, Rolin picked up the table, his face troubled.

"Sister, please listen to Fenris. You, all alone in the Imperium? You might not make it out alive." Carver pressed.

She sighed once more and placed the map on the table her fingers running over the cuts. "I would take Fenris with me since he knows Tevinter and since we are always together, but I cannot ask that of him, I won't make him go back there."

"Then let me come with you." Carver volunteered immediately.

Grace smiled, feeling touched. "I would like that Carver, thank you. Rolin, Darius, I want both of you to take care of everyone and lead the charge in Nevarra. I'm trusting you both to work together and hold everyone together." She stared at them expectantly.

Darius and Rolin glanced at each other and nodded, she knew they both didn't agree with everything but they were both good men. "We will not disappoint you Lady Hawke." Rolin promised.

"We hold your trust in us higher than anything else." Darius added. "We'll keep everyone safe and work hard together for the good of everyone."

She nodded satisfied with their responses. "Let's move out, we must get past Starkhaven as quickly as possible tonight, I fear my early encounter with them today won't go unnoticed."

Everyone nodded in agreement and began ushering orders and announcing their plans to the rest of group. Soon the cave was loud with bustling as everyone prepared to leave, packing their belongings and passing about rations of food.

"Lady, will we travel in groups like before?" Darius asked.

"Yes, but not as far apart as before, we need to get past Starkhaven fast and quietly and be close enough encase anyone gets attacked."

"So five groups? Between fifteen and twenty each?"

She frowned at the number but realized that if the groups were smaller, they could be overwhelmed more easily if they were attacked. She nodded approvingly. Darius left without another word.

"Who will lead them?"

She jolted with surprise and realized that Rolin had come back and had been listening to the conversation.

"Aw Rolin, will you lead the first group? Darius can lead the second…Jolf can lead the third. Carver will lead the fourth and I will lead the last group." She decided and contemplated who should be in which group, then decided it would be best to test Rolin and Darius and let them decided. "Place everyone in a group as you and Darius see fit."

He bowed his head. "As you wish Messere Hawke."

He left without another word toward a group of mages and Templars. Grace took her gaze away from them and quickly ventured out the cave, outside, the sun was setting and down the rocky path, sitting on a ledge was Fenris, his back to her and his sword in his hands.

She frowned and began walking down towards him, as she neared she realized Fenris was twirling his blade, Blade of Mercy, between his hands, the blade's tip pivoted on the rock below. She could see the muscles on the back of his neck, strained and hard.

She stopped beside him, and stared down at him concerned. He did not raise his gaze to her nor otherwise indicated that he had noticed her. Feeling down and well aware of his bad temper she sat down quietly next to him and waited for him to talk.

She hugged her knees close and watched his face, his eyes were half closed as he gazed down the length of his blade that she had given him. He paused, the blade still and his face even stiller.

Grace felt her breath caught as she waited for him to speak, his voice came quiet and agonized.

"Will nothing I say change your mind?"

Grace hesitated, her breath stilling in her throat, the answer came with a long pause. "No."

His hand suddenly clutched his blade with force, his eyes closed and his face twisted into a snarl, his teeth bared.

She flinched but his face relaxed and his mouth slowly calmed into a thin line as his hand reluctantly relaxed its grip on his blade.

"Fine." He spat then turned his gaze to her, his eyes were fierce and unyielding. "Then, I'm coming with you."

Grace blinked, baffled and lost for words, she stared at him dumbfounded, unable to answer.

He continued to stare at her, his eyes glared at her, finally she was able to stutter a few words.

"You'll come with me?"

He didn't blink. "I said that didn't I?" he demanded.

She blinked and shook her head a little finally grasping her tongue again. "But you hate Tevinter."

"I hate the idea of losing you more than I hate the prospect of going to Tevinter." He snarled with a touch of quiet in his liquid voice.

She blinked and shivered unable to answer his confession, rather she lowered her gaze and sighed, when her eyes returned to his, her words almost sounded feeble.

"Thank you, Fenris."

He sighed. "Grace…"

She stared at him in confusion at his troubled expression. He grimaced and his hands tightened on his blade again.

"What is it Fenris?" She promoted.

"Would…would you marry me if we could?" he asked very quietly. Before she could answer he continued bitterly and harshly. "Slaves hardly ever dare marry. If they weren't married before they were captured. Even after we're free if we ever are, we are the lowest in society. We don't dare attach ourselves to anyone unless we are already attached to our masters like starving dogs."

Grace blinked, unable to reply to his angry words.

"I know it would not be proper." He continued his voice pained. "To marry yourself to a former slave and an elf no less would be even more belittling of someone in your station."

Grace couldn't help laughing at the irony. "A wanted Apostate, a rebel, traitor, and murderer? How is my station anywhere high? How would getting married to you make me look any worse?"

Fenris glared, obviously not seeing any humor in the conversation. "The Champion of Kirkwall, your family lineage, as leader of this revolution and hope of the mages. How is your position not high?"

Grace scowled slightly and sighed. "No, I would not stand for anyone who thought our union would be blasphemy. I would marry you without hesitation and I would not care what anyone thought of it."

Fenris' anger evaporated, his surprise evident in his face. Grace stared at him with a determined and enraged scowl, he blinked, his cheeks turning red as he looked away and back down at his sword, he seemed lost for words once.

Grace's lips puckered slightly for a second before her face relaxed and she let the air escape her lungs. She sat back, releasing her legs and letting them hang limply from the ledge, she leaned back and stared up at the darkening sky, the first stars had started to burn to life.

"Grace…" Fenris began.

"HAWKE!"

They started up startled by the angry scream. Grace jolted up her stave already in hand as she stared down the slope with cunning eyes. Beside her Fenris' hand clutch his blade with a deadly grip, he glared down the slope, a snarl on his face and his body tense. In battle he was quiet and focused, like a hunting wolf.

Grace swept her gaze over the trees and wondered where the scream had come from, it was not a scream for help and it sounded familiar…a flicker of light caught her eye, another and another emerged and she realized it was lanterns, and torches of fire that climbed up the side of the hill, held by silver armored hands.

She recognized the crest of Starkhaven on the shields of the men that were bathed in the firelight, their faces twisted in battle snarls. In the lead she recognized a familiar face with a pang.

His icy blue eyes bore into her with fiery rage, Sebastian.

His bow was strung and upraised, aimed for her.

"Give up Hawke! And the Maker might show you mercy!" He shouted.

Grace tensed, her hand grasping her stave strongly with a tremor. "Let us leave Sebastian and we won't harm your men."

He scowled at her, his hand pulling the bowstring harder. "Andraste demands that I bring justice to your crimes against the Maker and the Chantry, I will not let you go!"

"Then you will all die in vain!" Grace spat back. "Men! Attack!" She howled.

"Attack!" Sebastian yowled, his bow gave a twang and his arrow went flying.

With slight focus, Grace extended her hand where fire flared on her fingertips, without warning a fireball sprang from her palm and shot like a comet to the men below, devouring the arrow in its path and spraying the men in an inferno of crackling light. Sebastian and a few others leapt away in time.

Fenris leapt down during the commotion, his blade gleamed in the light as he charged to the battle below, behind Grace, the scream of men rang in the air as balls of fire, ice and other energies leapt into existence, raining death to the men below. Blades and arrows soon followed the magical attack.

Grace rushed down as well, swinging her stave in an arc and firing small bursts of fire with every rotation and sweep. Men swung there blade to her, she deflect each one with the blade at the end of her stave, and stabbed and jabbed, with a pulsation of energy she smashed her palm down in the air, a thick convulsion followed her line of sight, smashing several soldiers under an invisible wall of energy.

She gasped at the sudden drain in her energy and the air gale up by her spell whipped her face and short hair away. She noticed Sebastian at the corner of her left eyes, twisting around she shot a blast of icy air towards him.

In turn he shot an arrow that arced past the ice towards her.

Snarling Grace grappled her stave's blade up, the steel made the arrow splinter away and send a tremor down her arms. In turn Sebastian let loose another arrow that shattered the ice away from him.

"I know all your tricks Hawke, you should just give up!" He shouted.

Grace snarled. "You shouldn't be so confident Sebastian, remember," she struck her stave down and bolted a stream of energy into it to the air instantly suffusing it with heat, a storm of fireballs began to rain down, "I know all your tricks too."

He stepped back. "Not all my tricks Hawke." He smiled, his form melting into the shadows.

Hawke's eyes widened in surprise, the firestorm smelted other soldiers around her preventing them from approaching, but not one revealed Sebastian's hidden form it the rain of light.

Snarling she turned around looking for her opponent, she noticed Fenris stab a man in the chest and knocked away another man with the hilt of his blade.

The air shivered dreadfully around her, sweeping her hand up and infusing the air with her will, a thick barrier splotched into reality around her form as an arrow drove for her chest, she felt the sweat stream down her forehead and she gasped at the drop in her strength and how close the blow had been to landing.

Another volley of arrows pelted her defense and she felt herself flinch with each strike as it echoed through the barrier into her ears and make the air hit her in every point the arrows landed. She felt her strength ebbing and she knew she could not hold up the barrier much longer.

She gasped as her strength suddenly failed her and barrier vanished, she had used up too much mana. She stared horrified as an arrow pierced from the gloom to her left, straight for her head. She lifted up her stave and arm in defense.

A snap came to her ears.

She looked up surprised at Fenris who stood before her, his arm outstretched and the two halves of the arrow falling from his clenched fist.

He glared into the shadows. "Come out here and fight!" He challenged, taking up a protective stance in front of Grace.

Swiftly jerking her hand into her pouch she pulled out a Mana Potion which she drank in a single gulp and tossed the small glass bottle away. The cloy flavor stuck to her tongue sickly and chilled her throat as it slithered down to her gullet. She felt energy sear her limbs and she stood up tall, revitalized.

She let out a heavy breath and scanned the shadowy trees.

Without warning another volley of arrows ran down upon them, she let her hand run the air, a wall of flames followed it, black ashes sprinkled to her feet, with a flick of her wrist she sent the wall of fire toward the four archers that had let loose the arrows. They screamed and tried to run away but none made it out of the path of the flames.

In the midst of the fighting, screams rose up into the dark. "Retreat!"

The mages and Templars screamed out their jubilance as the soldiers retreated. Grace's eyes narrowed, it was not Sebastian who had ordered the retreat and among the men that ran away, his distinctive ivory white armor was not among them.

She rose her stave warily, aware that the rouge archer was still lurking about. Probably with his bow aimed for her head.

"Fenris…" She whispered warningly. He gave the tiniest nod that he was aware, his eyes scanning the trees.

"Grace get down!" He shouted, shoving her away without warning and making her drop her stave a few inched away as she landed on her back.

Arrows suddenly came from three different directions. The lyrium on his body pulsated, thin waves of blue light lapped away from his skin. Grace gasped as his whole body became ghostlike within a second. A shimmering blue halo of his form, the arrows shot straight through him and flew harmlessly away.

He gasped and his body became tangible again, the veins of lyrium glowed and thrummed weakly as he collapsed onto one knee, panting. His blade sunk into the dirt.

She had never seen him become completely intangible before, only his arm or hand or portions of his body.

Horror pierced Grace as the world seemed to still, her eyes focused on an arrow that had flown a few seconds after its brothers, it twirled straight for Fenris' head. She had no time to enchant a spell into existence and Fenris was oblivious, his gaze down.

"No!"

Without thought she leapt up, her hands shoving him away as the arrow came close.

Thud. Crunch. Pierce.

Pain shot through her chest as a gasp escaped her lips with a soundless scream of pain. She fell back wheezing in pain. She let out a moan as her left bare hand reached up to her chest, her fingers came across warm liquid and then a shaft.

As she touched it she screamed with pain, her hand clasping her chest over her heart, the arrow was close to her heart and she felt as if the world was fading with her breath, the light in her eyes flickered as darkness collected at the edge of her vision.

She heard a voice, but it sounded mute and muffled as if through water, it echoed quietly.

"Grace!"

In her fading sight came Fenris, his face streaked with blood and his eyes wide with anguish, tears were streaming down his face. At first confusion and anxiety filled her muffled thoughts, why was he crying? She had never seen him cry, not for anything, so why was he crying now?

Then more pain shot through her chest and she felt tears peel from her eyes and her own scream was mute to her as it escaped her rough throat. She wondered if she was about to die.

Her body felt like led, a prison that held her down with stakes of pain piercing through her chest and she could not breathe. She looked back up and felt horrible to see his anguished face, she could feel her hand and it feebly reached up to his face, she felt a frown on her lips as she tried to get the words past her heavy tongue as her hand rested on his cheek, her thumb whipping away the tears with awful slowness.

The light was slipping, slipping away, her thoughts rang with what she wanted to say, before she could even gasp her sight failed and she was in darkness and the pain was gone.

_I love you._

And the pain was gone.


	4. Chapter 4: Fighting Death

Chapter 4: Fighting Death

Fenris stared down horrified as her hand fell away from his face.

"No! Grace, wake up!" He shouted his hands grappling her shoulders, but she did not respond, her head hung limply to her side and her eyes had closed. "No…." He chocked.

His hands gently laid her down, struggling to let go, his eyes stung and he realized tears had escaped him. He stared up realizing that many gazes stared in his direction, horrified. His eyes met the eyes of Grace's brother, Carver. He stared at them with an expression of disbelief and horror.

Fenris felt suddenly weary, then anger began to boil through his blood. He snarled and turned his venomous stare at the man that had let loose the arrow that had killed his beloved. He glared with intense hatred at the man who stared at them in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe he had actually succeeded in his endeavor.

Fenris stood up, his hatred doubled in force and his rage demanded revenge for Grace's death. He didn't cower before the hatred, he allowed it to consume him and it flared a new energy through his tired limbs. This hatred was darker and larger than he had ever felt, his previous hatred toward his former master, towards mages, and magic in general was like the flames of a small candle before the inferno that burned in him now. He had never felt so much hatred or new that much hatred could even exist at one time within someone. He felt his anger and knew it was unchecked and he allowed it gladly.

_Sebastian Vael, I'll make you pay. I'll kill you. I'll kill you!_

His clawed hand grasped his blade and he yanked it out coldly, he stepped away from Hawke and slowly paced toward his enemy who stared at him with a flicker of fear and triumph, he pulled out another arrow and let it fly.

Everything seemed slow to Fenris. The arrow whistled to his head, his blade arced up and the arrowhead panged the metal of his blade with a screech and ricochet away.

Surprise transformed Sebastian's face as he yanked out another arrow and let it loose.

This arrow Fenris caught between two fingers and snapped it.

Fear steadily grew in Sebastian's expression, he took a step back and Fenris noticed the withering shadows collecting around his enemy's form as he was merging into the shadows to become invincible and escape.

The burning returned, it sent icy cold waves through Fenris' muscles as the lyrium veins lit up all over his skin. He ignored the stinging pain that itched his skin furiously and lunged, his arm as swift as a striking snake, his claws clutched Sebastian's throat and he yearned to choke him as he lifted him off the ground.

The light that shivered off his skin clashed with the shadows that tried to envelope Sebastian, but he wasn't about to let go.

Fenris sunk his blade into the dirt and raised his hand, he felt the strange and open sensation that pervaded his arm when it became intangible, his hand reached in to his enemy's chest.

Sebastian screamed and struggled to get away, one hand grasping as Fenris' armored arm and the other tried to stop his approaching hand, but his efforts where in vain for Fenris' arm was that of a ghost, as if trying to fight off the wind itself. His efforts were futile.

He sunk his armor clawed hand slowly into Sebastian's chest, his glare and snarl set on the eyes of the man he was about to kill. He allowed him to feel fear, he wanted him to be terrified as death was approaching closer every second. He allowed the power of the lyrium to slowly solidify his hand and his claws clutched around Sebastian's thrumming heart, it beat frankly against the hot skin of his palm and fingers.

Sebastian screamed out in pain and terror.

"Mercy! For the Maker's sake, show mercy!"

Fenris growled, a feral angry growl. "May you rot and burn in whatever hell that exists." He snarled, his hand squeezed Sebastian's heart and it thrummed wildly in his clenched fist, with a savage cry Fenris yanked out his hand and with it the man's heart.

Blood rained out, scorching warm as it pelted Fenris' face.

Sebastian's cry ended with a gasp as his eyes rolled into his skull and he went limp in Fenris' hand and his arms fell to his sides. With a sound of disgust, Fenris slit his claws into the man's throat and tossed him down into the ground. He stared down at Sebastian with bitter anger and wished he could kill him twice and a third time after that.

His hands squeezed the heart, it popped with a spurt and blood soaked into his skin and the ground around him. He dropped the dead heart, gore filled the edges of his metal claws. It landed with a thick thud and rolled once, compressed like a raisin. Fenris turned away, his eyes trailing to Grace's body and all the anger left him, a void seemed to gap before him filled with drowning sorrow.

Beside Grace kneeled Darius as he touched the arrow carefully, his fingers pressed to Grace's neck. Fenris noticed uncaringly as Carver and a few others stood back, gazing at him with fear. But he didn't bother to care.

"Lady Hawke is still alive!" Darius shouted.

Fenris' frozen limbs seemed to melt, his eyes froze on Grace in disbelief and hope.

_She's alive…?_

He found that his body was moving for him and he ran to her side as did others, Carver's concerned voice rang up.

"Can you save her?"

Darius looked with uncertain eyes. "I don't know, this arrow is perilously close to her heart, I don't believe I have the magical means to save her. I never trained far into the art of healing."

"Is there someone who can?" Fenris demanded with a scream. "If there is," his voice became hushed and pained, "then please, please save her." He hated to beg, and to mages even more, but he knew he had no choice.

A few surprised murmurs whispered through the assembled crowd, three mages stepped forward from the crowd and approached their eyes wary as they glanced at Fenris.

The first mage, a man, bowed before Hawke and inspected the wounds, he frowned grimly. The other two mages, men as well, took up station next to him and also inspected the wound. The first mage spoke.

"I'm afraid none of us here can save her from a wound like this…"

"Maybe if we combine our powers…" The second mage said suggestively. "But we have no source of lyrium…" Fenris almost snarled, daring him to glance at him.

The third mage spoke. "Perhaps with blood magic, but someone would have to sacrifice their life…"

Discontented murmurs filled the air.

"I'll do it." Fenris and Carver said at once, they glanced at each other in surprise.

"No," The first mage broke in, "Lady Hawke would be most displeased with that, besides, that path is very risky and we may risk turning her into something that's not even human anymore."

Discomfort filled the air tensely. "Then what do we do?" Fenris screamed as he broke the silence. "All of your cursed magic and you're just going to let her die?" Fenris spat, his hands turning into fist as his entire frame shook.

"If there was only a mage with immense magical ability, and much experience in healing…but that much power would require an abomination…" The second mage said pathetically. "Then he or she could heal her, unless someone here is willing to make a bargain with a demon then I believe we have no way of saving her." He said sadly.

Fenris' thoughts trained toward a face he hated dearly. "Anders." He snarled quietly.

"Yes," The third mage said his eyes lighting up, "Anders would most definitely be able to save her."

"But we have no idea where he is!" Fenris spat.

"He was in Kirkwall two weeks ago when I passed by…"

Fenris turned his gaze to Carver. "Are you sure? Did you see him?" He asked almost desperately.

"No…not exactly." Carver explained. "You see, we Gray Wardens have the ability to sense others with the Taint. I recognized Ander's Taint when I was there, he was in Kirkwall, still in Darktown I imagine." He said confidently.

"Then we go to Kirkwall!" Fenris snarled.

"But you're wanted fugitives there!" Rolin protested next to Darius.

"We have no choice." Fenris hissed with frustration.

"Will all of us go?" Darius asked a little mortified.

"No," Fenris snarled impatiently. "Just me, Carver, and Hawke. We have to get there as swiftly as possible. Will one of you heal her as best you can or come with us?" He loathed asking but he knew he had little option.

"I could heal her…as much as possible." The third mage said carefully. "But the best way to assure she makes it to Kirkwall would be to heal her with blood magic."

He hesitated, loathing the idea of blood magic touching the woman he loved but there wasn't time to feel conflicted.

"Fine, then do it!" Fenris hissed. During the creation of the group, Hawke and a few others had seen it fit to prohibit the use of blood magic unless it was truly direly needed, to prevent mages from being lured by the power and promises of demons. He had strongly agreed on that rule though he though they should just kill all the blood mages to begin with.

"I would need blood from someone with strong magical abilities, like Miss Hawke." He looked about contemplating. "But she's lost enough blood already, is anyone willing to volunteer?"

"Use my blood."

Everyone turned to him in surprise and shock.

"I may be no mage." He began carefully, his words strained. "But lyrium runs in my blood, will that suffice?"

The mage blinked at him surprised. "I don't know…I've never used blood that was also fused with lyrium, but I believe it would."

"Then do it." Fenris ordered bitingly, he reached for his sword and realized he had left it by Sebastian's body, impatient and frustrated he bit his exposed palm till it bled heavily over his skin, ignoring the pain he kneeled by Hawke and presented his hand to the mage. "Get on with it." He snapped.

The mage flinched and nodded, he began reciting unintelligible words and the blood began to boil and itch around the wound on Fenris' hand, he watched un-amazed as the blood shot up and guided by the mages hand began to repair the wound on Grace's chest. He watched as the bleeding stopped and the wound crusted around the arrow's shaft.

The mage gasped and the flow of blood ceased and Fenris' hand wound sealed, the mage's hand reached up as he broke the arrow so only a short portion protruded from her chest.

"There, let's hope Anders can save her, but you must get to Kirkwall before a week's time or she will not make it. I've made all the vital functions in her body slow down, and the internal bleeding cease for the moment. You must move fast and check the wound constantly, if it begins to bleed then break the armor and bandage her chest."

The mage instructed quietly. Fenris nodded and noticed a glitter of hunger in the mage's eyes, a look he knew well as the mage turned his gaze away, obviously uncomfortable. Disgust and distrust began to swell in Fenris before he suppressed it.

"She seems almost fine." One of the mages said in wonder.

"Yes…" The third mage said warily. "Your blood…" He said carefully to Fenris. "Is very potent, stronger than any blood I've ever used. The lyrium has filled it with energy, far more energy than normal."

Fenris scowled and without comment picked up Grace in his arms, holding her close to his chest, her breathing was exaggeratingly slow. "Venture to Nevarra as planned. We shall meet you there later. Carver, let's go."

"We won't make it to Kirkwall on foot with the time demanded." Carver said worriedly as he followed.

"We'll steal horses." Fenris said bluntly and he picked up his blade and placed it onto his back ignoring Sebastian's body, next he picked up Grace's stave and placed it under the strap that held his blade. "Let's go." He broke into a sprint and began running down the road.

_Hang on Grace, I'll save you. Just hang on._

He heard Carver jog after him and then labored panting soon followed by the cries of many.

"Good luck!"

"Take care!"

"We'll be waiting for you!"

Fenris glanced back and noticed Fang, he seemed uninjured and covered in blood.

"Fang! Go back!" Carver ordered.

Fang whined then barked in protest.

"Let him come." Fenris grunted. "He won't stay behind without someone familiar, he might as well come and help."

"Alright." Carver said without argument, in silence they ran down the path and halted in surprise as they came across a white horse. It snickered and cried at them, the insignia of the Vael family on its brown leather saddle. "Hu, that's lucky. Is there a second one?" He asked hopefully.

Fenris ignored him and presented his healed hand to the horse, it sniffed him and snorted, the horse's eyes met his and Fenris tried to convey the urgency in his gaze. The horse touched his hand with its nose in a friendly gesture and snorted again. Fenris hoisted up Grace to the beast's back before he climbed up himself.

He grasped the reins and pulled, the horse stepped back. Fenris looked around and noticed Carver pulling something from the shadow of the trees, a gray horse emerged, obviously frightened, he calmed it with a few pats and gentle words before mounting onto the horse.

"Fang, you're too big, unless you can keep up, go back." Carver pointed out to the mabari.

Fang barked at the challenge and growled, obviously not willing to leave.

"Fine." Carver resigned hotly. "But if you get left behind we're not waiting for you."

Fang barked, seeming to object to Carver's words.

"Come on." Fenris ordered quietly and reined the horse to run, with one hand he held to the reins while the other held Grace up to his chest.

The beating of hooves soon thrummed in the silence of the night. Together they sprinted out of the forest, over the Minanter River, and past Starkhaven in the dead of the night.


	5. Chapter 5: Seas and Letters

Chapter 5: Seas and Letters

The sea raged.

It blasted its anger through every wave of its vast body, the icy sea water thrashed the spirit out of any hardy man, and struck at his vessel without mercy. For his lone ship was nothing but a speck in its vast eye, it took and what it took it never gave back. Nor what lives and hope it robbed was ever worthy of its notice.

That was the nature of the sea, an untamable and merciless mistress.

On her ship, Isabela was its mirrored image.

"Man the dock you louts, pull the sail in! Hold that ruder! Move, move, move!" She shouted as she yanked in rope with strong and melded practice.

"Blasted ocean, exactly what I didn't want to experience!" Varric cursed under his breath as he held down a rope from the sail. His arms tremble with the force, his coat and Bianca were soaked to his displeasure and he felt his legs rock with every wild tilt the ship took with every wave.

He never had felt so sick, not even with the worst ale he had ever tasted.

"Oh would you like some help there Varric?" Chimed a voice that was nearly drowned out by the wind.

"Ah Daisy, mind getting this down with some magic?" He grunted relieved.

"Oh no, Isabela says that magic will do no good here, she said it needs to be tied down right and the boat's strength will handle the rest." She grabbed the rope and grimaced thoughtfully. "But the boat doesn't have any muscles…how would it hold down rope on its own?" She asked obviously bemused.

"How should I know?" Varric answered impatiently.

"Hmm, perhaps there's some magic at work after all."

"No sweetie." Laughed a voice, Varric looked up in surprise as Isabela snatched the rope and hauled it down, tying to a metal ring by the boards of the side of the ship. "Tell me Merrill, are trees strong?"

"Well of course they're strong, I mean how else they would survive for so long even after the fall of the Elvhenan…I mean the trees are alive…oh but they do get jealous sometimes, oh I'm rambling again. Sorry."

Isabela chuckled. "And a ship is made out of wood right? If the trees are strong then so is the ship."

"Oh, I see." Merrill smiled with sudden understanding. "That would explain so much! Boats do moan a lot, I wonder it's because they were cut down?"

Varric snorted and Isabela chuckled. "Maybe."

"Oh I must research this, maybe the boat will talk to me like the trees in the forest, I wonder what it would say…" She looked over the wet boat thoughtfully, seeming oblivious to the razing wind.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up to high Daisy, the boat just might never answer you." Varric teased.

"Oh I hope it does." Merrill said with worry.

Varric glanced at Isabela who just shook her head and rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile.

Another tremor shook the small ship as Varric almost lost his footing, he grabbed the strained rope to steady himself. The rough material scrapped his gloved hand roughly as he stood up straight, supporting his weight and balancing against the rope.

"Rivaini, I curse you and your retched sea, I swear when we get to Kirkwall I am never getting on another bloody ship again! I rather take a whole horde of darkspawn with Bianca broken then experience this twice!" He bantered agitated.

Isabela simply gave a coy smile and chuckled in her throat. "We'll see."

Varric glared slightly but soon lost the staring contest as another wave shook the boat, Isabela seemed unbothered by it, never losing her stance. She looked away from them, glaring up at the clouds then the sea and then some of the crewmen.

She left without another word, seeming to storm down the deck.

Varric sighed and looked back at Merrill and her wide-eyed expression.

"I fail to see how you got use to this crazy weather and with Isabela no less." Varric commented.

Merrill blinked and gave her usual sweet clueless smile. "Oh it wasn't that hard. You'll get used to it too Varric. You will stay with us won't you?"

Varric snorted humorlessly. "Not a chance Daisy. But maybe I'll visit."

"Oh..." Her eyes became wider, the puppy dog face she was so good at.

"No! No! No!" Varric chanted, unwilling to give in to her charm. "Not that face, Daisy. Nothing is going to change my mind unless you can guarantee the sea will always be calm."

Her face became thoughtful. "I wonder if there's a demon that controls the sea…? Maybe we can ask it…"

Varric let out a hopeless sigh. _Did she learn nothing last time?_

As he looked back up at Merrill, he flinched in surprise at the hollow dead look in her eyes. Sorrow and guilt swam in her eyes, deep as the endless sea.

Varric frowned guiltily wondering what good joke would lighten the mood.

But the only urge he felt was to curse at the sea and to vomit over the deck. He tried to open his mouth but Merrill was already moving away, like a ghost through a still wind.

Varric sighed defeated and with wobbly legs walked over to the edge of the boat and leaned on the rail and gazed out to the stormy world. Salty water sprayed and stung his face repeatedly, before he knew it he was more drenched then he previously had been. He groaned resentfully at his soaked condition, at least he had wrapped up Bianca so her paint wouldn't be harmed.

He wondered idly what they would find in Kirkwall.

Hours later they finally left the storms well behind them, and to Varric's surprise it was dawn once again and he groaned at the weariness that dragged his muscles and thick bones.

The sea was smooth, pushing them on gentle waves.

Varric screwed his eyes and looked into the distance, a faint smile pulled at his lips as he recognized the foreboding cliffs of the City of Chains. Something in his gut heaved suddenly, something didn't feel quite right as he gazed at the distant cliffs. He frowned pensively, wondering what caused him to feel so cautious and wary apart from the obvious.

He pulled back, standing straight and looked up at the cloudless sky, relishing the hot sun for once as it dried him completely. Though he smelled and itched heavily of salt he appreciated that the storm was long gone, though he yearned for a good bath to clean the ocean right off his skin.

He silently pulled out Bianca and unwrapped her to check on her condition. He was satisfied that he found her undamaged or wet, she gleamed like ivory in the sunlight, he caressed her length gently with a sly smile on his face.

"Oh it's Bianca!"

He nearly jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice, he hitched Bianca back on his back and turned his attention to Merrill.

She had a smile on her face and her green eyes were bright and enthusiastic. "We're almost in Kirkwall." Her gaze traveled to the east and her expression blanked, Varric knew well that she was looking at Sundermount, thinking of nothing pleasant.

"Yes." He agreed. "Soon we'll be in good old Kirkwall. Wonder how much it's changed…" He mumbled to himself as he leaned on the railing and gazed out.

"Do you think the Alienage has changed?" Merrill asked absently as she came and leaned by him.

Varric shrugged slightly. "Who knows Daisy? Templars and mages have been running amok, who knows what extra damages they've caused?"

She frowned and said noting, she observed the black cliffs considering his words.

The heels of boots echoes across the wooden deck, Varric turned to see Isabela walking up to them a smile on her lips as she leaned in between them.

"What do you think Varric? I told you we would get here in one piece." She winked slyly.

Varric snorted. "Sure Rivaini. Just covered in salt."

Isabela's smile widened. "What? The sea's natural youth remedy?" She chuckled. "The sea keeps the skin young Varric. Consider the possibilities!" She insisted.

Varric snorted. "You mean it wrinkles you faster." He corrected as he extended out his arms.

"Hu." Isabela said surprised. "What do you now, dwarfs do wrinkle after all."

"Ha!" Varric laughed at her faux innocence. "Bet you'll wrinkle faster than any of us."

She looked up, a dangerous glare in her eyes and a challenging smirk on her bright lips. "We'll see."

Varric grinned at the challenge.

The sun was setting as a swift current finally pushed them to the walls of the dark cliffs, Varric watched astonished as they entered the City of Chains, the great statues of hopeless slave figures were destroyed, smashed and rendered unrecognizable looming high above. They looked like they had been shattered, burned, destroyed beyond fixing most likely by magic.

They passed one statue mostly sunken in the water, only the head covered by upheld hands was visible over the murky waters.

He felt nervous as they passed quietly and slowly through the cool shadowed cliffs, he looked ahead to the sight that greeted all newcomers. The Gallows.

He gasped shocked.

The tower was gone, only a sharp portion barely protruded up into the sky, black and burned.

He stepped back warily, shifting his gaze suspiciously over the scene, it was quiet too, very quiet.

He looked over his shoulder as the stepping of leather shoes echoed over the deck, Isabela's expression was grim, she was cloaked in a long cowl that draped over her form hiding everything from sight, Merrill wore a similar robe, brown and dusky. Isabela handed Varric a robe of his own, slashed short and thanked her as he covered himself and tied it around his neck.

"Stay below decks, Kitten." Isabela instructed seriously. "Don't come out for anything unless the ship's attacked, then run. Run to Sundermount and we'll find you there later."

Merrill nodded, her gaze wide and staring as she glanced at the approaching docks before quickly disappearing below decks. Some of the crewmen looked around nervously as they worked the ropes.

"Let's be quick." Isabela whispered. "Let's go to the Hanged Man first then decide from there."

Varric nodded in agreement.

The boat came to sudden stop but Varric had his stance ready and he didn't stumble. Quickly they disembarked by some cargo by the next dock, Isabela made the leap easily, he had to run before his leap.

He glanced back as one of the crewmen stepped up as the false Captain, telling the soldiers they had come to drop off shipments.

Quickly he and Isabela scurried away from the ship and made their way slowly through the foundry and cargo bays into the Dock district where the Quanari had once been allowed to stay, he stared at the large burnt gates as they passed them, remembering how Hawke had defeated the Arishoke in single combat, it had been an amazing feat, making her the Champion of Kirkwall. He admitted that Fenris had played in an import role during that time, though at the time he had wanted to choke him for intervening and offering a dual between the two when the odds were far better if they all fought together.

Later that month a little too drunk and while playing cards with Fenris he had demanded Fenris to explain why he had played such a risky move, even going as far as accusing Fenris he had set it all up just because Hawke was a mage, hoping the Arishoke would kill her.

He remembered well the furious look that had crossed the lyrium warrior's face, even ripping the cards in his hand. Spitting at Varric for accusing him so bluntly, demanding if he had no confidence in Hawke's abilities.

Varric had been surprised by the elf's words. It was at that moment, despite that the elf would not admit it even to himself, that Varric knew that Fenris had fallen deeply for Grace.

He realized that it might have been hard for Fenris to let Grace fight the Arishoke alone and just watch. Varric had mistaken Fenris' hard expression at the time for coldness when it had actually been pain he had been trying to mask.

Varric sighed and shook his head as they entered the Lowtown district, wondering how both those idiots were doing. Then he remembered the biggest idiot of their group, Anders. Sparking a war and rifting the group apart over his idiocy and his unrequited love for Hawke. There had been more than one reason for the hatred between Fenris and Anders and that had been their shared love for Hawke.

Varric sighed again. _Why is love so melodramatic?_ He thought to himself.

He quickly recognized the district and realized most of the buildings were still damaged, the streets were crawling with Templars and some guards. He noticed that many faces watched the armored men warily and went along their business in silence, not many people were out, and many stands were packing up for the night.

Together they quickly made their way to the damaged Hanged Man, avoiding guards and Templars along the way. They were before the door in no time, the large figure was still hanging half missing half burnt in front of the bar, but the rest of the place looked relatively repaired.

The door creaked open, the usual bustle didn't spill into Varric's ears, it was not as loud as usual, and he realized soon enough why.

Three Templars sat not far from the entrance, drinking and glaring around them. Varric almost snarled but turned his attention away from them and noticed some of the regulars. Isabela quickly went to the counter and placed a ring before the bartender, his eyes widened in surprise for a moment before it was replaced by a blank expression as he nodded to her and handed her something from underneath the bar.

Isabela glanced back at Varric with a wink before heading upstairs. Varric followed her quickly, aware that one of the Templars was following him with a piercing suspicious glare.

They entered the first large room, the key clicked open the door and Varric was surprised that mostly everything had remained untouched in his room. He entered after her as she closed the door behind.

"Alright Rivaini, give me my father's ring back." He ordered a little annoyed since he had not realized she had taken it from him.

She smiled apologetically and dropped the ring in his outstretched hand. He slipped it back onto his finger grumbling that he should be more aware and the next one to do that would find an arrow in his or her hand.

He looked at the bed, dusky but tempting. He ignored it and went to his long table, a few letters and notes laid on its surface, most unimportant and requests from the Merchant's Guild. He quickly sorted through the letter and swished out the ones for Isabela on a separate pile. He paused by one letter in astonishment.

A letter from Hawke's younger brother, Carver. Two letters from Aveline about five from an unknown sender and one from Merrill. He smiled and glanced at Isabela, letter in hand.

She shrugged. "She missed you."

Varric chuckled and set the letter down and set to work on opening the letters from the gang. He opened Carver's first. It was a short simple letter dated two months back, asking for Hawke and a reply, and that he would be traveling to Kirkwall in a month's time to search for her if he got no response.

He snarled under his breath. _Carver must have already come and gone._

He set the letter aside and opened the first letter from Aveline which seemed to have gone through quite a journey.

He skimmed quickly through the letter, it was also two months old, reporting that she and her husband had made it to Fereldan safely and that Anora had appointed her general after hearing the news from Kirkwall and her role as Guard Captain and the promise King Alister had made to reinstate anyone who returned to their homeland that had fought in the battle of Ostagar. Aveline had been surprised by the promotion as well as being an advisor to the queen.

Varric set aside the letter and opened the second one, this one was recent, sent three weeks ago.

He nearly gasped surprised as he read through the letter. He smiled at the news, Aveline was pregnant. But that was the only good news in the letter, Anora was sending a march against the mage rebellion in Fereldan and then the Free Marches and war now seemed inevitable with Orlais. Yet Aveline was not giving up her post till later on in her pregnancy if at all.

_That daft man-woman, why am I not surprised? Only she would fight and lead an army into war while expecting! Is she trying to get herself killed? Dunac must be loving this…_

He set the letters aside and gazed the unknown letters suspiciously, he opened the oldest first, he was surprised that the letter was from Anders, asking if he was in town and to meet him in Darktown. It was a month old. The next one was only three weeks old asking the same question and the third was two weeks old mentioning that Ander had felt Carver pass through Kirkwall and stayed only three days and that Anders had been unable to talk to him before he left. The fourth letter was a week old which was the one that interested him most.

It informed him about Anders' intentions to leave in a week but that he would try to stay in touch, that he was going to search for mages to help in the rebellion and that rumors had been floating around about Hawke being near Starkhaven with her mage rebellion but not daring to cause conflict with the powerfully influenced Chantry city, for now.

The next letter was a day old, mentioning that his trip was delayed due to an invading force of Templars in Darktown but had left soon afterwards and that he would be setting off in three days towards Navara mentioning that an old friend had contacted him to meet him within two weeks. But he didn't know who he was meeting just someone who was a former Grey Warden apparently.

Varric sighed and looked about for paper and ink, considering if he should see Anders before he left or just write to him and tell him to stop by if he wished.

Varric grimaced as he picked up a piece of paper from his writing desk, contemplating if the idea was even safe. Then it occurred to him that he shouldn't stay long in Kirkwall and that Isabela was most likely to leave soon anyway and that it was highly possible he would accompany her…

He shutter at the idea of getting on that ship again and the vast waters of the sea, it was an unappealing thought indeed.

Varric jolted in surprise as a quiet tapping echoed from the door. In an instant everything was dropped as Isabela slashed out her daggers and Varric yanked out Bianca in a flash and load an arrow in a split second. He aimed it at the door.

They stood frozen, anticipating.

Another knock tapped the door, more rapid and desperate than the previous.

Varric glanced at Isabela confused, Isabela shrugged keeping her blades up.

Varric scowled and lowered Bianca slightly as he approach the door, he cracked it open Bianca tilted up and his finger tense on the trigger. He blinked surprised as he recognized the dwarf and opened the door wider.

"Sir!" He panted. "The elf, champion, and her brother have been spotted approaching Kirkwall!"

Varric straightened surprised glancing back at Isabela, he turned back to the dwarf about to speak but the other dwarf spoke first.

"They're traveling here on horseback according to one of the merchant sentries, they are running here at full speed, and the Champion is badly hurt by the look of it."

Varric snarled demandingly. "How was she injured?"

"We don't know, when they spotted them, she was out cold and covered in bandages in the elf's arms as he rides towards here. Also, Templars were headed to the docks."

Varric grunted worried. "Wait here." He ordered.

He spun around laying Bianca on the table and pulled out a quill quickly with an ink bottle and pulled up the leaf of paper he had dropped and wrote a quick message. The tip of the quill scratching quickly on the surface of the paper, running the ink quickly from the tip.

He folded up the paper quickly and found a gummy seal and pressed his ring against the gunky liquid, leaving an impression of his family emblem. He picked up the letter and passed it to the dwarf.

"Take this to Blondie immediately in Darktown." He ordered.

The dwarf nodded and gave a slight bow and left quickly. Varric glanced down the hall before closing the door quickly.

"We need to get to the ship and get Merrill." Isabela hissed irritated as she sheathed her blades.

Varric nodded in agreement and quickly picked up his letters and tucked them away in his coat. "Then we head to Blondie's clinic."

Isabela nodded in agreement. "Let's go."


End file.
